


Initiation

by memorizingthedigitsofpi



Series: June Fic-A-Day Challenge [15]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 1x21, Gen, amazing story generator, fic a day challenge, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:16:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4142565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorizingthedigitsofpi/pseuds/memorizingthedigitsofpi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What did Ward think of the crazy guy who broke him out of juvie? How did Garrett become such a force in his life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Initiation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notthestupidcatagain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthestupidcatagain/gifts).



> The 15th fic in my [Amazing Story Generator, Fic-A-Day challenge](http://memorizingthedigitsofpi.tumblr.com/post/120419056932/ive-been-thinking-for-a-while-that-id-like-to) for June. If you want to, you can send me a prompt of three numbers between 1 and 60.
> 
> Numbers: 43, 52, 6  
> Prompt: Vowing not to bathe for an entire year, the heir to an oil fortune discovers who really killed JFK.

When John Garrett had approached him at the juvenile detention centre, Grant's first thought was that he was full of shit. Just another one of dad's golfing buddies trying to cozy up to him and make him forgive the old man. Maybe try to get him back in the military with the promise of guns and explosion and kicking some ass.

It'd worked before. He couldn't really blame his pops for thinking it might work again.

Screw that. He could totally blame his pops for thinking it'd work again. Just because bribery worked in the oil fields of Texas and on the floor of the House in Washington didn't mean it would work on _him_. Not again. He'd learned his lesson. Whoever this guy was, Grant wasn't having any of that shit.

And then Garrett told him what his future was going to be.

No more cushy military school where the Ward name could get him out of the worst of the drills. No more therapists trying to _understand_ what he was _going through_ and try to _reach_ him. No more mom, crying and wringing her hands and wailing because she didn't know what to do with him. Just a long, cold stretch of hard time with no one but his hand to keep him company.

Grant squinted slightly, trying to read him. Was he for real, or was this just some massive bluff. It wouldn't be the first time someone had tried to scare him straight, and it almost certainly wouldn't be the last either.

"Why should I trust you?" he asked, expecting the standard canned response along the lines of 'I'm looking out for your best interests' or some bullshit like that.

"You shouldn't," Garrett said instead, and Grant blinked in surprise. That was a new tactic. "Don't trust anybody, _ever_. _Especially_ me."

There was something about the look on his face. Grant new immediately that this guy was batshit fucking crazy. He supposed that it took one to know one, sometimes.

And that's when all hell broke loose.

\-------------------

That first night, when Garrett left him in the woods with nothing but a dog and a useless overnight bag, Grant spent a lot of time cursing him out.

_Goddamn crazy motherfucker!_

_Shit-for-brains bastard dick-muncher!_

_Jerk-wad cunt-lapping asshole shitstain on the fucking world!_

It was the only thing that kept him warm in the cold and the rain. That, and Buddy.

\-------------------

It was six months before Garrett came back, and Grant had given up on ever seeing him again. He'd managed to make the campsite downright livable by then, and he was hunting like he'd been doing it all his life. Which, in a way, he supposed he had.

When his perimeter alarm went off, he was in the bushes on the outskirts of camp, cocking his rifle and waiting to see what prey had wandered in. The fact that it was Garrett didn't make him any less eager to shoot. If anything, the urge became overwhelming. But he had to know.

"Give me one reason not to blow your head off," he said, pressing the rifle right against Garrett's neck. He was going to do it either way, but he was curious what the man might say to justify what he'd done. Hopefully he'd beg for his life. That would make it so much sweeter when he pulled the trigger.

But no. He couldn't act like a _normal_ person. Not John Garrett. He never followed the script. He was batshit fucking crazy, but he was also totally fucking sane, and it was strangely... nice? to get his approval. Grant felt proud in a way he never had when his teachers at school praised him. He'd _earned_ it this time. He wasn't just getting it because of who his father was.

And that's when Garrett started shooting.

\-------------------

He'd been living in the woods for more than a year when Garrett started confiding in him. Nothing too big, at first, just stories about his time in the field. They were unbelievable tales of danger and suspense, sex and violence, and Grant loved every one of them. _This_ was the kind of man he wanted to be, not a stuffed shirt like his father. He wanted to be a spy, living life on the run and never knowing from one moment to the next if he'd live or die.

He wanted to be batshit fucking crazy.

He wanted to be totally fucking sane.

"I know you've got questions, son," Garrett said over the campfire one night after they'd spent the day hunting deer. "And as a reward for your hard work today, I'll give you _one_." He stabbed a piece of meat from the cooking carcass and popped it into his mouth. Speaking around the mouthful, he grinned and said, "Make it good."

Grant thought for a minute, trying to decide what to ask.

He wanted to know where Garrett came from, why he'd chosen _him_ , who those men were who'd broken him out of juvie, when he was going to go to S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, when he was going to _leave this forest_.

He looked at John Garrett, watching as the other man watched him, and he knew that asking any of those questions would do nothing but disappoint him. Those were small potatoes, not big stakes. Garrett loved to show off, and that wouldn't let him do that. No, Grant had to ask something _big_. Something he shouldn't expect anyone to know the answer to.

He smiled as it came to him.

"Who killed JFK?" he grinned.

Garrett threw back his head and barked out a laugh. "Kid," he chuckled, "You do _not_ disappoint, do you?"

Grant stabbed a piece of roast deer and chewed, waiting expectantly.

Garrett gave him a measuring look, summing him up and deciding if he was worthy. Finally, he slapped his hands down on his knees and nodded. "Let me tell you about a fellow named the Winter Soldier," he began.

And Grant's education began in earnest.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never tried to write Ward or Garrett before, so I don't know how this one worked out, but I think I like it? Apologies if my characterizations are wildly off.


End file.
